


Notes For You

by sakurahaiku



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Love Notes, M/M, One day Hwanwoong will murder Youngjo and no one can stop him, Youngjo is an Idiot (TM), no beta we die like men, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurahaiku/pseuds/sakurahaiku
Summary: Youngjo is in love. Specifically, he’s in love with Seoho.Which, by all laws of the known universe, means that Youngjo is fucked
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Seoho
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145





	Notes For You

**Author's Note:**

> Since there seems to be a lack of SeoJo pics that aren't A) graphic porn B) In language I can't understand and C) one that I have already read a million times, you have to deal with me having to write my own. 
> 
> This is obnoxiously long and I will not apologize for that

It happens slowly. It doesn’t hit him until they’re sitting across from each other, all their other friends in the room. This is not abnormal; this is an average Saturday night. There’s a deck of cards in the middle of the coffee table, a beer bottle in front of each person. Then Seoho laughs and Youngjo has an epiphany. His mind clears and he can put a name to a feeling that he’s tried to push away for God knows how long.

Youngjo is in love. Specifically, he’s in love with Seoho.

Which, by all laws of the known universe, means that Youngjo is fucked.

* * *

It wouldn’t be so bad if Seoho was in any way open to affection or feelings, but the guy had decided that he would only reciprocate, appreciate, or initiate when it was convenient for him. Which has always been fine with Youngjo. He could understand and value the fact that his friend wasn’t as touchy-feely as Youngjo is. Everyone is different, and he knows that it’s important to respect the boundaries of others. Youngjo had always been completely okay with the fact that he couldn’t hug Seoho whenever he felt like it. It’s never been a problem.

But then Seoho had to go and laugh his pretty laugh too many times in front of Youngjo and now all the he wants to do is pin down his friend and tickle him so he can hear that laugh over and over again until Seoho is panting and grabbing at Youngjo’s arms so the older could pull him in and –

Youngjo really needs to learn how to turn off his brain sometime.

It would also be useful to Youngjo’s predicament if Seoho was even open to verbal affection. But the younger was prone to closing his ears if he thought you were about to compliment him. If you could speak fast enough to tell him how great he was doing at something or that he looked good that day Seoho would turn a bright shade of embarrassed red. Youngjo isn’t sure when he started noticing that the flush moved inwards to the center of his face, creeping across from his ears and up from his neck until even his nose was bright red. But now that Youngjo knows about it he wants to shower Seoho in compliments so that he’s the only one who can see the glorious blush.

The facts, however, remain. No matter how much Youngjo likes Seoho, confessing would be difficult. He couldn’t physically express it because it would make Seoho uncomfortable and Youngjo didn’t want that. Telling him to his face could backfire too. Hell, Youngjo isn’t even sure if Seoho would accept his feelings. And even if he did would their friends approve? What would happen if they broke up? It would be like the universe was falling apart.

The worst is that, despite knowing all that, Youngjo still wants to take that plunge. He just needs to figure out a safe method to do so. The thought keeps him up at night, and it’s something to occupy his time while he tries to drown out the constant rumbling of Geonhak’s snoring from the next room over.

* * *

Perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation that comes with living with Geonhak’s snoring, or perhaps it’s the romantic that has always been inside Youngjo, but after a few nights he finally thinks of a plan that he decides meets every criterion. Which is how he finds himself at his desk at the asscrack of dawn trying to write a note to Seoho.

The contents of the note have to be perfect, Youngjo decides. Has to encapsulates his feelings but not overwhelm Seoho. When the words finally come to him, he writes them down, carefully forming each stroke of each letter so his handwriting is immaculate. If Seoho clocks that it’s him writing the note then he’ll never get to hear how Seoho truly feels.

Geonhak has just stopped snoring when Youngjo sneaks out the door of the apartment. It’s not horrendously early or anything, but Youngjo wants to get to school to drop the note off before any of his friends show up. He’s a little embarrassed to be doing this, but he can’t see any other way around it. Carefully, looking around, he sneaks up to Seoho’s locker and cautiously slides the folded note into it. He takes another look around, and walks away like nothing has happened.

He’s sitting in the cafeteria, nursing a cheap cup of coffee when his phone vibrates.

**Geonhak**

_Why are you already gone?_

**Youngjo**

_Why does it matter?_

**Geonhak**

_It’s too early to deal with you being this weird_

* * *

Like nearly every day, they all meet up in the cafeteria for lunch. It’s sort of an unplanned event, but they all managed to get a break at noon somehow. Geonhak usually always arrives first, then Keonhee. Youngjo then manages to get there, Seoho generally just before or just after him. Dongju and Hwanwoong will saunter in last. Nearly every day, with a few exceptions, this is what their lunchtime routine looks like.

Today happens to be one of those exceptions to the rule. Seoho is the last to arrive, face pale. He’s clutching onto a piece of paper, one that Youngjo recognizes all too well. He fights back the urge to swallow air, and stares up at his approaching friend, trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral yet inviting.

“Someone is pranking me,” Seoho announces, in lieu of a hello. The rest of them watch in confusion as Seoho sits down, spreading the paper out in front of him.

“What do you mean?” Keonhee is halfway chewing his sandwich. Dongju looks at him from the other side of the table, not even trying to hide his disgust after witnessing the contents of Keonhee’s mouth.

Seoho lifts up and slams the note down onto the table, and Youngjo can feel his pride shatter.

“Some asshole,” Seoho is talking through his teeth, “left me this note as a prank,” Seoho looks legitimately angry and confused, and Youngjo finds himself suddenly regretting this entire endeavour. Hwanwoong picks up the note, his eyes quickly and carefully scanning over each letter. Youngjo quickly wonders if there’s a way he can stop his heart from beating so fast, but then his brain decides that if his heart beats too fast maybe he’ll just keel over and die on the spot and they can all forget this note happened.

“Seoho,” Hwanwoong begins reading the note out loud, and Youngjo can feel each piece of dignity shatter to the floor, “Has anyone ever told you that your laugh is infectious? Every time I hear it I want to laugh alongside you,” Hwanwoong pauses for effect, and contorts his voice into a satirical, mushy declaration straight from a teen film, “It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you,”

“Stop it,” Seoho groans, “It’s embarrassing,”

“Who wrote it?” Leedo asks. Hwanwoong is cackling like a mad man.

“Some asshole,” Seoho shrugs, “I can’t believe someone would try to prank me like that,”

“What if it’s not a prank?” Keonhee is innocent, as much of a romantic as Youngjo.

“If it’s not they’re not very good at writing,” Dongju deadpans, “Seriously, would it kill them to be a little more descriptive?”

“It’s definitely a prank,” Seoho seems very sure of this fact, and Youngjo can feel his heart break.

“But what if it’s not?” Keonhee slaps Seoho’s arm, “Your _soulmate_ could be out there right now,” He begins looking around the cafeteria, “What if they’re here right now?”

“It’s definitely a prank,” Seoho repeats himself, voice steady.

“Keonhee has a point,” Leedo says sagely, “I mean you’re not the easiest person to approach. They could just be scared of you,”

Hwanwoong scoffs, “Who the hell is scared of Seoho?”

“Maybe intimidated would be a better word,” Geonhak shrugs, “Anyways, it’s a possibility,”

“No, it’s not,” Seoho emphasizes each word.

“To say it’s not a possibility,” Youngjo’s voice feels dry as he speaks, “means that you think no one could possibly like you,”

Seoho’s stare bores into Youngjo, “Not. Possible.”

Dongju snickers “Statistically, it’s not impossible.”

Youngjo gets to indulge in watching Seoho’s flush creep over his face. He watches his ears turn red, moving sideways across his face, tinting it with colour. His neck is flushed too, moving upwards until it hits his chin, his cupid’s bow. Youngjo is sure that, if he were brave enough to reach out, Seoho’s face would burn hot under his hand.

Later, at home, he wonders how far down that blush truly starts. He can feel his own body burn with the sudden thought.

* * *

His first note, clearly, was not a hit. Youngjo is more than a little embarrassed, but now the game has changed. He still wants Seoho to know that he likes him a hell of a lot, but he also wants Seoho to believe that it’s not a prank. The idea that Seoho can’t even fathom a universe where someone has a crush on him is unbelievable to Youngjo.

He wants Seoho to be able to hear all the things that he sees when he looks at the other. He wants Seoho to know how beautiful his eyes are, how captivating his smile is. How he waves his hands excitedly when he’s talking about something that he truly loves and enjoys. How his voice soars during karaoke. How he bites his lip when he’s thinking.

Youngjo has never taken the time to fully appreciate how truly bad he has it for Seoho. He wonders what kind of cruel trick God has decided to play on him by making him fall for someone who doesn’t believe he’s capable of being sought after. Well, Youngjo has never been one to back down from a challenge. He went into this knowing that even telling Seoho face-to-face that he likes him was going to be a very hard mountain to climb.

So, he goes back to his desk and begins constructing a better note. One that’s less cheesy and a little more direct and personalized. One that says something more about Seoho, one that couldn’t be sent to anyone else but him. Once he’s satisfied, Youngjo goes to sleep. He wants Seoho to smile reading the note.

He leaves early in the morning again, before Geonhak can leave his room. He feels a little weird, sneaking out to place a love note into his friend’s locker, but he’s made up his mind. He creeps up to the locker, and slowly slides the note inside. He walks away, a little more confident than the day before.

**Geonhak**

_Two days in a row?_

**Youngjo**

_I guess this is who I am now_

**Geonhak**

_Why are you so weird????_

* * *

It’s lunch time, and Seoho is last to the table again. They all watch, holding their breath as he unfolds the note. He reads it this time, and Youngjo’s heart beats and his breath catches with every word and pause.

“Seoho,” the note begins, “I seriously don’t think you understand how much I love your smile. It’s easy to grow, and it lights up a room. I don’t mean to be corny, but whenever I see you smile I just have to look at you. You could just be hanging out with your friends, or maybe you’re at the campus store and something you love is on sale. But, if you’re smiling, I just have to look at you. I wish this was easier to say to your face. A note seems impersonal, but I don’t know how else to tell you this,”

Hwanwoong releases a low whistle and Youngjo finally feels himself breathe again. They all stare at Seoho, waiting to see if his reaction changes. Seoho’s face, however, remains neutral. Maybe a bit confused, if Youngjo had to grasp at straws. He wishes it was easier to tell what Seoho is thinking at any given time, he hates playing this guessing game.

“Still think it’s a prank?” Keonhee asks, in his usual lit of innocence.

“Yup,” The answer is short and sweet.

“Are you sure?” Youngjo tries to hide the hesitation in his voice.

“Yup,”

“No, you’re not,” Hwanwoong rolls his eyes, “You have no idea what’s going on,”

“Yeah,” Dongju cuts off Seoho, who’s about to make some remark back to Hwanwoong, “You’re far less sure than yesterday,”

“I hate you all,” is Seoho’s quick response. Geonhak claps him on the back. Youngjo wonders how long he can keep this going.

* * *

The answer is that Youngjo can keep this up for an embarrassingly long time. As it turns out, Youngjo cannot seem to run out of ways to praise Seoho. To tell him how much he adores the other. Thinking of scenarios where it’s not painfully obvious that it’s him is harder, but Youngjo knows he can keep going forever. As a group, they talk about each note at lunch, and the identity of Seoho’s secret admirer during their weekend hangouts. It’s beginning to be the start of every conversation that they have.

Youngjo briefly wonders if he really should have done this to Seoho for two months, but he can’t help it.

He’s doing his usual round to Seoho’s locker in the morning, Geonhak having long since stopped questioning Youngjo’s change in routine. Each day is exactly like the rest. He creeps up to Seoho’s locker, slides the note inside, then goes off to buy the cheapest cup of coffee he can find. In fact, he’s gotten used to being up earlier than usual. Maybe he’s a morning person after all.

Today is different. Usually Seoho’s locker is pristine, but today there is a scrap of paper poking out of the locker. It’s mysterious, tantalizing, and Youngjo grabs it and pulls it out while he slides his note in. He takes a quick look at it, expecting to see the remnants of some class work that has ripped off the page. Instead he finds something completely different. Instead he finds a question.

There, in Seoho’s handwriting, reads the phrase “Who are you?”

Youngjo feels like jumping off a cliff.

* * *

“So, you left them a note?” Geonhak asks, taking a sip from his water bottle.

Seoho nods, “I probably should have done this a long time ago, but better late than never,”

“I wonder who it is,” Keonhee grabs at his heart dramatically, “This is all so cute and romantic,”

Dongju is less sure, “Have we even figured out anything about them? Like do you even know if they’re a boy or a girl?”

“No clue,” Seoho shrugs.

“Have you thought about who you want it to be?” Hwanwoong is very matter of fact, “I don’t even think I know what your ideal type is,” Seoho seems perplexed at the question. Youngjo hopes his anticipation isn’t noticeable.

“Do you want them to be a boy? A girl?” Geonhak asks plainly so Seoho can’t dodge the question.

Seoho seems to think about it for a moment, “Male is good,” he ends up saying. Youngjo feels like flying, and he can’t wait to go home to respond to Seoho’s note. Keonhee swoons theatrically.

* * *

Another month goes by like this. Seoho leaves questions for his secret admirer to answer, and Youngjo writes back earnestly, answering each question with enough detail to satiate Seoho’s curiosity without giving away who he is. Soon Seoho knows that his admirer is a boy, studies music, and so much more.

When Seoho learns that his admirer is in music, he’s quick to ask Youngjo to keep an eye out for anyone who it may be. Youngjo promises that he’ll look out for anyone suspicious, anyone who looks like they could be Seoho’s mysterious letter writer. Truthfully, he’s starting to feel a bit guilty, keeping Seoho strung along like this, but at this point it’s gone too far. He doesn’t know how to tell the other at this point. But he likes writing the notes, like knowing that Seoho is happy receiving them.

It’s Seoho’s last note to him before winter breaks start. Another simple question, “Will you ever tell me who you are?”

It gives Youngjo pause. He’s not sure the best way to answer it. He could say that he’ll never tell, but that would make Seoho sad right before the holidays. He could say that he will, eventually, but he doesn’t want to get Seoho’s hopes too high up.

So, he does the dumb thing and writes back, “You already know who I am,”

He deposits the note and tapes a candy cane to the locker.

He tries not to look to happy when Seoho walks to their table at lunch sucking on the peppermint candy. But the confused look in Seoho’s eye tells Youngjo that he fucked up.

* * *

They’re all out on break, so mornings, afternoons, and nights are spent as the six of them. They hop from apartment to apartment, watching cheesy Christmas movies, drinking weird holiday cocktails that Hwanwoong has forced onto them. They breathe in tandem, their laughs mix together like a choir. And Youngjo has to pretend that he hasn’t spent the last three months telling one of his best friends that he loves him.

There’s a winter market one evening, and the six of them move from booth to booth. Keonhee and Dongju look at everything with wide-eyed wonder. They catch snowflakes on their tongues, and point at the cutest objects. Hwanwoong studiously stares at every item, very seriously trying to find presents for the people in his life. Every time he finds something that one of his friends would like he shoos them away, small body crowding in on the booth so that the others won’t see. Geonhak can’t say no to a single free tasting of the food and drink that surrounds them, especially if a child is there holding the samples, helping their parents. He burns his tongue on a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate and Youngjo laughs as he tries not to curse into the wind.

It’s cold in the winter weather, and Youngjo can see Seoho shivering. Even though the other is bundled up, it seems to not be enough. Youngjo unwraps his scarf, and tries to nonchalantly throw it on Seoho’s shoulder.

“You’re shivering,” Youngjo tries to keep his voice cool and collected, platonic, “Should we go inside?”

Seoho shakes his head, “I’m fine, thanks though,” and attempts to hand Youngjo his scarf back.

“Keep it,” Youngjo’s voice is firm, “I’m not letting you get hypothermia out here,”

“Fine,” Seoho laughs, “Whomever thought about holding an outdoor market on the coldest day of the year is a fucking idiot,”

“Not their smartest moment,” Youngjo returns the laugh. They stand in silence for a few moments, just two friends who have known each other forever, who are comfortable in each other’s presence.

“Should I get him something?” Seoho’s voice is quiet, almost drowned by the noise surrounding them,

“Who?” Youngjo hopes his voice doesn’t get lost in the wind,

“You know who,”

“Ah,” Youngjo feels his heart warming up, “I guess you can if you want to,”

“What do you think he’d like?” Seoho is looking right into Youngjo’s eyes. He feels a brief moment of panic, as if Seoho has figured him out.

“I have no idea” Youngjo answers, hoping to sound noncommittal enough that Seoho isn’t suspicious. Another moment of quiet passes between them, but this one is tenser, as if they’re both on edge. They look at the other, and Seoho opens his mouth to say something, then quickly closes it again.

Dongju comes running through the crowd, calling out to them. The moment is broken.

Merry Christmas to them.

* * *

The break is too short, and soon Youngjo finds himself writing another note to Seoho. The routine is easy to fall back into. He knows he has to tell Seoho the truth eventually, but he feels like he’s in over his head. For now, he just goes about his day like he did before. When he goes back to the locker the next day to receive Seoho’s response, there’s some bookmarks in a card for him.

“I didn’t know if I should get you anything or not. I hope you like them!”

The bookmarks are a foiled gold, something he watched Seoho pick out at the winter market. Dongju, the shiny-object oriented magpie that he is, is the one to point them out. Seoho had held them gingerly in his hand, and asked if the others thought that his admirer would like them. Seoho seemed so soft, so innocent in that moment. Youngjo wanted to hold him and whisper that he loves the bookmarks. But he couldn’t do that, so he settled on telling Seoho that the bookmarks are nice. The group agreed, and Seoho had purchased them, a soft smile on his face.

Youngjo takes the bookmarks home and holds them gently. Everyone has seen them so they’ll have to stay hidden in his room for now. At least until he tells Seoho the truth. He pulls out his notebook and writes a note to Seoho, making sure that the other knows just how much he likes his present.

He falls asleep, dreaming of the moment when Seoho lets him hold his hand.

* * *

It’s a Sunday morning that he gets found out.

He comes out of his and Geonhak’s shared bathroom to see the other sitting at the kitchen table. His hands are folded on the wood, and he has his teacher face on. Youngjo has only seen that expression a few times before, but he knows what it means: Youngjo is well and truly fucked.

“We need to talk,” Geonhak is straight forward and direct. Youngjo looks down. He only has a towel wrapped around his lower body.

“Can I put on clothes first?” Youngjo feels sheepish, exposed.

“You have two minutes,” and Youngjo nearly sprints into his room, finding the first clean shirt and pair of sweatpants that he sees and throwing them onto his body. He emerges in record time, and sits in the other chair, across from Geonhak. There’s a few awkward moments, like Geonhak doesn’t know where to begin.

“I was looking for a shirt and thought maybe it was with yours, so I went in your room,”

Youngjo sharply inhales.

“You know I’m not someone who snoops around but something caught my eye,”

Youngjo holds his breath.

“I saw these,”

Youngjo exhales in panic as Geonhake slides the bookmarks onto the table.

“I can explain,”

“I fucking hope you can,” Geonhak can’t meet his eyes, “You’re Seoho’s secret admirer?”

“Yes,” and there it is. The secret is out.

“You better not have been playing him all this time Youngjo. I swear to God I’ll kick your ass,”

“I would never,” Youngjo thinks he sounds like he’s pleading, “I would never prank someone I care about like that,”

“Why didn’t you just tell him?” Geonhak looks him square in the eye, “Instead of playing these stupid games why didn’t you just tell him?”

“I didn’t know how,” Youngjo feels like he’s going to cry, “I wasn’t sure what his reaction was going to be,”

“You have to tell him eventually,” Geonhak sounds softer.

“I know,” Youngjo swallows, he isn’t sure where he’s supposed to look, “Please don’t tell anyone. Please don’t tell him,”

Geonhak stands up from the table. Youngju holds his head in his hands.

“You’re a fucking moron,”

And then Geonhak is walking away, and Youngjo hears the door of his room click shut.

* * *

Youngjo is able to keep it going until Valentine’s Day. He really should tell Seoho soon, especially since this a holiday all about love and sharing your feelings. But with each passing day Youngjo grows more and more scared of the repercussions for his actions. With each day that goes by the possibility of Seoho rejecting him grows.

At lunch, they discuss whether or not Seoho should leave chocolates for his admirer.

“He should buy you chocolate,” Hwanwoong is firm. Dongju is next to him, nodding his head adamantly.

“But wouldn’t it be cuter if they both buy each other chocolate?” Keonhee slams his hands on the table. People from around them stop and stare.

“Seoho got him a Christmas present,” Dongju reasons out, “And this guy didn’t give him one. Therefore, he has to buy Seoho chocolate,”

“Good points on both sides,” Leedo turns to look at Youngjo, “What do you think?”

Youngjo swallows air and looks up. Seoho is staring at him expectedly, curious. He thinks he’s gone too far, “Let him buy you chocolate,” he finally decides on. Seoho agrees. Hwanwoong and Dongju high five. Keonhee groans in annoyance.

Youngjo is going to murder Geonhak when they’re both home.

But Valentine’s Day comes, and Youngjo watches Seoho happily much on his chocolate.

“Did he get you a kind that you like?” Keonhee asks, eyes wide.

“Yup,” Seoho takes another bite of chocolate for emphasis, “Salted caramel. It’s like he knows me better than you guys do,”

Youngjo doesn’t meet Seoho’s eyes.

* * *

**Seoho**

_It’s been a while since we hung out_

_The two of us_

_Wanna come over?_

_I have chips_

**Youngjo**

_Sure!_

_Is Hwanwoong going to be there?_

**Seoho**

_He’s with his parents_

_It’s just me_

**Youngjo**

_Sounds good_

_I’ll be there in like half an hour_

_Need me to bring anything?_

**Seoho**

_Nah_

_We’re loaded here_

_As I said_

_I have chips_

**Youngjo**

_Hahahaha fine_

_See you soon!_

Seoho and Hwanwoong’s apartment generally looks like a tornado has hit it, so when Youngjo walks in and sees that it’s in some semblance of order he’s a bit shocked.

“You didn’t have to clean for me,” Youngjo laughs.

“I didn’t. Hwanwoong’s parents dropped by first,” Seoho holds a bag of tortilla chips out towards Youngjo, “Chips?”

Then it’s normal, and Youngjo feels like he can exist in the same space as Seoho without it being weird. Like Youngjo hasn’t been writing love notes to the other nearly every day for the past few months. Like he didn’t get Seoho Valentine’s Day chocolate. Like Seoho hadn’t chosen out bookmarks with Youngjo’s secret identity in mind. Like those bookmarks aren’t hidden under some books on Youngjo’s desk.

They play video games and laugh for hours. They take turns beating each other in Mario Kart, then in Smash. It was just two friends hanging out. Truthfully, Youngjo missed this. Missed having his friend Seoho. Youngjo knows that he wants more from Seoho. Wants to put his arm around him and hold him close to his body. Wants to pepper his face in kisses and feel Seoho squirm in his grasp. Wants Seoho to feel comfortable being affectionate towards him, wants Seoho to know that it’s safe to be vulnerable around him.

But, if he can’t have all that, he’s satisfied with this. More than satisfied.

The hours pass by and they’re tuckered out. They’ve eaten all the chips and Youngjo can only imagine what Hwanwoong’s reaction is going to be when he gets home. They’ve stopped playing games are just lounging on the couch. Youngjo on one end, Seoho on the other. The quiet between them is comfortable, but Youngjo can feel the tension building. It’s creeping up towards them, and Youngjo doesn’t know how to stop it. He wonders if Seoho can feel it too.

“Hey, Youngjo?” Seoho breaks the silence.

Youngjo turns his head to look at him, an acknowledgement.

“You don’t have to keep lying,”

Youngjo makes a noise of confusion. His heart drops in his chest.

“I know it’s you,”

“What?”

“I know you’re the one writing the notes,”

“What makes you say that,” Youngjo hopes his voice doesn’t sound panicked.

“Because you’re the only one it could be,”

“Really?”

“Really,”

“How did you know?” Youngjo is looking at his hands, his knees, anywhere but Seoho.

“I had my suspicions since the beginning. You’re not that good at masking your handwriting,”

Youngjo can feel shame and humiliation creep up his body. He feels appallingly warm.

“Besides, you always acted weird when we all talked about it. Like you already knew what was going to happen.”

Youngjo stares at the wall.

“Eventually I just put all the dots together,”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Youngjo’s voice is quiet, ashamed.

“It felt nice to think that somebody actually wanted me,”

“What?”

“If I put aside the fact that I knew it was you, it was nice to think that someone actually liked me,”

“Wait,” Youngjo finally looks at Seoho, “Do you think that I was pranking you?”

“Of course, it was a prank, Youngjo. I said so since the beginning,”

Youngjo doesn’t know what to say.

“I think the joke is getting old now though, don’t you think?” Seoho’s voice is shaky, unsure.

“It wasn’t a joke,” Youngjo moves closer to the other, encroaches on Seoho’s space without getting too near, “Why would I ever joke about that?”

“Why wouldn’t it be a joke?” Seoho meets Youngjo’s eyes. Youngjo wonders if the same uncertainty that’s swimming in Seoho’s eyes is mirrored in his own.

And then instinct kicks in.

Youngo leans in and kisses him. It barely counts as a kiss, really only a brushing of their lips together, but Youngjo does it all the same. He leans back, and sees that Seoho is bright red. Suddenly, the weight of Youngjo’s overstep washes over him. The heaviness of the situation, the fact that he had just kissed his friend, his friend who ran from affection, hits him like a tonne of bricks.

“I should go,” Youngjo stutters and clambers for the door. He slides on his shoes, his coat, and leaves as quickly as possible.

By the time he reaches home there are tears streaking his face and he doesn’t know what to do. Geonhak is at the table, doing some assignments, when Youngjo crashes through the door, nearly in hysterics.

“He knows,” Youngjo says in horror, “I fucked up,”

Before Geonhak can say anything, Youngjo has sprinted into his room and locked the door behind him.

* * *

He spends a week in isolation. He emails his professors to say that he’s sick. He ignores Geonhak and barely eats. The weight of his mistakes, and there are many, sit so heavily on him that he finds it hard to breathe.

He should have just come clean from the beginning. He shouldn’t have even written the first note. That’s where he fucked up the first time. He should have just sucked it up and told Seoho how he felt. But he was scared of losing his friend. He wanted to keep Seoho in some capacity, even if that was selfish of him.

He shouldn’t have let it go on for so long. He should have nipped it in the bud after a month, at least he should have ended it before Christmas. He should have told Seoho to meet him somewhere and just tell him the truth. Should have accepted the rejection like an adult. But he loved seeing Seoho’s face smile with curiosity with each letter.

He should have told him during that quiet moment at the winter market, when Seoho asked him if he knew what the admirer would like. He should have told Seoho that he was the admirer, that all he wanted was him, if Seoho would have him. But Seoho looked so breathtaking in the snow that Youngjo lost his words.

He should have told him on Valentine’s Day. Should have told Seoho to meet him to get his chocolate. But instead he chickened out, like a moron, and cowardly taped the chocolate to the locker instead. But Seoho looked so cute, munching on the chocolate. But all that was just selfishness on Youngjo’s part, and he could see that clearly now.

Not that it mattered anyway. Seoho knew for months and months and said nothing. Thought Youngjo was just playing an extended joke on him, didn’t think that Youngjo’s feelings could possibly be real.

And then Youngjo went and fucked it up even more. He entered Seoho’s space, broke through his boundaries, and kissed him. All this had started because Youngjo didn’t want to push Seoho past boundaries that he wasn’t comfortable opening himself. And Youngjo went and broke that trust.

He can’t forgive himself.

One day, early on into his isolation, Hwanwoong came and nearly tried to tear down Youngjo’s bedroom door. The other was loud in his verbal assault against Youngjo, with a long list of expletives being screamed at him through the wood of the door. Youngjo supposes that Seoho had filled Hwanwoong into the situation. He can’t blame Hwanwoong for being so angry with him; he had completely broken Seoho’s trust. For every second that Hwanwoong is trying to knock down the door, Youngho braces himself for the inevitable fall out. Braces himself for whatever pain and suffering Hwanwoong is ready to put him through, and Youngjo is prepared to accept that. But the assault never comes; Youngjo can hear Geonhak wrestle with Hwanwoong, hearing his roommate yell something about “respecting the security deposit”, and Hwanwoong slowly disappearing.

He wishes Geonhak would have just let Hwanwoong murder him. It would have been easier to deal with than his own inner pain of knowing that he had hurt Seoho.

The question of whether or not Keonhee and Dongju had been filled in to the situation is answered when they both end up knocking on Youngjo’s bedroom door at different times. They’re calmer than Hwanwoong, though a sense of urgency can still be heard through the sharpness of their knocks, the pleading in their voices. Youngjo wants to let them in; Keonhee and Dongju tend to be open to receiving his love and cuddles and Youngjo desperately wants someone to hold and to hold him. But, in the end, neither of them are the person that Youngjo wants so badly to be in his arms.

But now everything has changed. Youngjo has fucked up the dynamics of their group’s friendship. There’s no going back to how they were before. Regardless of whether or not they think Youngjo truly meant what was in those notes, or if they think he was pranking Seoho, the entire foundation of their friendship has shifted and molded. And Youngjo doesn’t know if he’ll still be welcome once he opens that door.

Worst of all, he may have lost Seoho forever.

* * *

It’s on the seventh day of his isolation that he hears Geonhak picking the lock. He imagines his friend outside with an unraveled wire hanger, poking and prodding at the lock with it until it clicks. Youngjo takes deep breaths until the inevitable happens. He can imagine what Geonhak is going to say to him. Berate him for not eating and showering as often as he should be. Yell at him for hurting Seoho, most like. He anticipates the unavoidable fallout.

But it’s not Geonhak’s chiding face that awaits him when the door opens.

When the door finally clicks unlocked, Youngjo is watching the door swing open when he feels his heart drop to the bottom of his chest. Geonhak is there, with a wire hanger in his hand like Youngjo expected. He’s not alone, however. Seoho is standing behind him, sheepish and unsure and Youngjo hates that expression on him. Geonhak looks between the pair of them, wearing a look that says, “I’ve done my part here,”

“Okay, kids,” Geonhak has his teacher voice on, “You two figure yourselves out. I’ll be back in three hours,”

He does a whole show of putting on his shoes and his jacket. He reminds them to not kill each other before the front door slams shut. Youngjo and Seoho are left staring at each other, with the door to his bedroom being the threshold that separates the two. The silence that follows is heavy, fraught with tension. It’s Seoho that crosses first, stepping slowly into Youngjo’s space and closing the door behind him, as if Geonhak was in his own bedroom or just outside.

They stare at each other, Youngjo is scared to break eye contact in case Seoho disappears while his gaze is elsewhere. The other looks like he’s trying to say something, but then his nose wrinkles up in a grimace. Youngjo thinks quickly about what could be wrong. He’s preparing himself for the worst, the end of their friendship, his expulsion from the group. But that moment never comes.

“Do you think you could take a shower?” Seoho sounds truly pained, “I don’t think I can talk to you when you smell like this,”

Youngjo can feel his whole body grow hot with embarrassment. He quickly agrees, averts his eyes from Seoho. He scrambles around his room, picking up the clothes that smell the least bad, and scurries into the bathroom. He uses the few minutes he’s under the spray to try to collect himself and his thoughts. He tries to map out what he’s going to say to Seoho. Plans to say that he knows that he should have ended the whole thing months ago, that he shouldn’t have even started. Decides to tell him that he should have been confident enough just to say his feelings to Seoho’s face, taken the rejection head on without dragging it out like he’s done. Needs to tell Seoho that it wasn’t a prank, that he wasn’t trying to mess Seoho’s feelings.

He just doesn’t want Seoho to leave him.

He walks back into the bedroom. Seoho has slightly opened the window to try to disperse the stench of Youngjo’s week long depression binge. The winter wind has left a slight chill to the room, and Youngjoo decides that it fits the atmosphere of the situation. It’s winter outside, it’s winter in his heart, and it’s winter in their friendship. Seoho is sitting on his bed, looking surprisingly comfortable despite the conversation that’s about to happen. Youngjo closes the bedroom door behind him and sits down, leaving as much room as possible between them in order to respect the boundaries that he knows Seoho has reinforced around him.

“Just so you know,” Seoho’s voice is hesitant, “I didn’t know it was you right away. Once I started receiving answers to my questions I was able to figure it out,”

Youngjo feels small, “I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper.

“I’m not—,” Seoho stutters, “I’m not angry at you,”

“You’re not?” Youngjo is trying not to look at Seoho, but it’s hard when he can feel the other’s eyes staring into him.

“I could never be mad at you. I’m just confused,”

“About what?”

“About why you did it,” Seoho sounds exasperated, “I’ve been running all the scenarios over in my mind and I just can’t seem to understand you,”

“I thought it was pretty obvious,”

“Well, it’s not,” Seoho huffs. Youngjo can imagine that his cheeks are puffed out in annoyance. Cute. Adorable. Something that Youngjo can’t have.

“Because I like you,” And there it is; the weight of Youngjo’s confession is lifted from his chest, “I like you a hell of a lot, Seoho,”

Seoho exhales.

“I just couldn’t tell you in person. I was scared that I would make you uncomfortable. I was scared that I would push you away,” Youngjo finally turns to look at Seoho, “I was scared that I was going to lose you,”

Seoho’s eyes are darting around, taking in the confession. Youngjo turns away, unable to keep with the rapidly changing expression on Seoho’s face. He readies his heart for the rejection. He readies himself to hear that he’s no longer wanted. But the rejection never comes. Instead, he feels Seoho move closer, until their thighs are brushing. Seoho has broken down his own walls, and has invited Youngjo inside.

Seoho sets his head down on Youngjo’s shoulder. The movement is awkward and unsure; Seoho keeps his hands in his lap. Youngjo holds his breath. He feels like he’s about to implode.

“I was scared,” Seoho whispers, “I was scared of the possibility that you may like me,”

Youngjo slowly leans his own head down onto Seoho’s, keeping his hands in his lap despite wanting to pull Seoho in closer, “Why?”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,”

“What?” The question is breathless.

“I didn’t want to hope that you liked me too,” Seoho sharply inhales, “It was easier to pretend it was all a joke,”

“But it wasn’t a joke,”

“I know,” Seoho lightly chuckles.

“So, all this time you –?” The question hangs between them, heavy and unyielding.

“Yeah,” Seoho turns his head further into the skin between Youngjo’s shoulder and neck, “I liked you too, moron,”

“What?” Youngjo is speechless, amazed. Seoho laughs into his shoulder, and Youngjo can feel every vibration.

“I should have ended it before Christmas, but the feeling of getting those notes was so nice that I didn’t want it stop,”

“I always wanted to tell you,” Youngjo turns one of his hands upwards, an invitation, “But it felt like I was in too deep,”

“You’re an idiot,” Seoho accepts the invitation. Youngjo closes his fingers around Seoho’s.

“I’m your idiot?” It’s a question, and the implications of it are heavy.

Seoho chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you are,”

Youngjo squeezes his hand. He wants to pull Seoho in closer; wants to pull him down so they’re laying intertwined. But the moment is too tender, too precious, and Youngjo is scared of breaking it. Seoho’s nose is cold on his skin, and he briefly wonders if he should get up and close the window. But that would require letting go of Seoho, and Youngjo is not prepared to do that just yet. They sit in silence, comfortable for the first time. Youngjo does not want this feeling to ever disappear.

As Seoho adjusts himself so that his head is cradled just right in the crook of Youngjo’s neck, Youngjo cannot help but ask himself a question that’s been bothering him, “So, why did Hwanwoong try to murder me?”

“Well,” Seoho speaks between hiccups of laughter, “The guy I like kissed me and then ran away. Hwanwoong couldn’t let that injustice stand,”

Youngjo joins Seoho in his laughter, and finally that last bit of tension snaps. Youngjo lets go of Seoho and wraps his arms around the other. He can feel one of Seoho’s hands creep up to his chest, clutching at his shirt. Youngjo feels like he’s been given permission, freely and completely.

And Youngjo lets them both fall.

His head hits the pillows, and he’s finally, _finally_ holding Seoho in his arms. The other has his palms splayed over Youngjo’s chest, over his stomach. He buries his face back into Youngjo’s neck. They’re both still laughing, and Youngjo can feel the heat of Seoho’s breath on his skin, a sharp contrast to the cold air streaming in from the open window.

“So, what can this idiot do to make it up to you?” Youngjo asks, breathless and elated at all the possibilities in front of him. Seoho lifts his head up from its spot, and Youngjo nearly whines at the loss of contact.

“I have a few ideas,” Seoho’s face is hovering above Youngjo’s, eyes sparkling. His lips are tantalizingly close to Youngjo’s, all he would have to do is lean up and then –

Seoho ends up moving downwards, letting Youngjo continue to rest his head on the pillows. Their lips touch, and this time Youngjo doesn’t move away. Seoho keeps his downward momentum, until their lips mold together, move fluidly. One of Youngjo’s hands slide up from its place on Seoho’s waist to rest on the back of Seoho’s head, pressing them even closer together.

It’s Seoho who breaks first, desperate for air. Youngjo fights back the urge to pull him back in immediately; he needs to breathe too.

“I’m cold,” Seoho pouts, getting up to close the window. Youngjo feels heavy as lead without Seoho’s weight on top of him. He watches the other, mystified, captivated. Seoho comes back quickly, reclaiming his spot on Youngjo’s stomach.

“Have I made it up to you?” Yougjo is grinning.

“Not quite,” And Seoho is leaning down again, repossessing Youngjo’s lips into his own once more.

It’s one of the most beautiful answers that Youngjo has ever heard.

* * *

It’s Saturday night and the six of them are together, watching a movie at Keonhee and Dongju’s apartment. Keonhee is in a pile of blankets on the floor, covering his eyes whenedver something he doesn’t want to see pops up on the screen. They’re not even watching a scary movie, but Keonhee’s antics are adorable and predictable. Geonhak is at one end of the three-seater couch, sitting like a normal human being. Hwanwoong is on the other end, hoarding the bowl of popcorn. His feet are dangerously close to Keonhee’s face, and every so often he’ll bring one in front of Keonhee’s eyes just to hear him scream. Dongju is in the middle of the couch, constantly flipping positions so either Geonhak or Hwanwoong have to cuddle him. Currently, he has his head on Geonhak’s arm and he’s trying to kick the popcorn out of Hwanwoong’s lap. He probably has the end goal of getting the food to spill all over Keonhee.

Youngjo is in the armchair. It’s soft and comfy and envelops him like a cloud. It’s his favourite place to sit in the apartment for that very reason. Youngjo is someone who has always craved affection, and sitting in this particular chair makes him feel like he’s receiving a hug from a close friend.

Generally, Seoho would be on the floor next to Keonhee. Generally, he would be joining Hwanwoong in torturing the other, quickly pinching his arms and poking his sides. Since he and Youngjo have started dating, however, a new normal has been put into place. Now, he’s more apt to sit between Youngjo’s legs. He’ll lean against his calves and press kisses into his knee when no one is paying attention to them. While Seoho is far more affectionate when it’s just the two of them, when they’re with others he keeps touching Youngjo to a minimum. This isn’t an issue for Youngjo. The fact that Seoho has broken down his barriers to let Youngjo in is enough for him. Being inside Seoho’s personal bubble is an exclusive club where he’s the only member.

Today is not a typical day, however, and Seoho seems needier than usual. He’s tucked into Youngjo’s side on the chair, pressing his face into the softness between Youngjo’s arm and chest. Youngjo’s arm is draped around his boyfriend, his thumb rubbing circles into Seoho’s shoulder. If he was feeling bolder, he would slide his hand down so he could hold Seoho by his waist, pressing his fingers into the soft skin there. Now hardly seems like the moment for that though.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, you two,” Hwanwoong scolds them, “Should I plan to let Geonhak come home with me to sleep on my couch? Should I be sleeping at his?”

Geonhak has the decency to look more embarrassed than either Youngjo or Seoho.

“It’s no fair,” Dongju whines, “Seoho still won’t cuddle with me,”

“Who wants to cuddle you?” Seoho chastises Dongju, not removing his face from Youngjo’s chest, “All you do is bite the people who do that,”

Dongju makes a dramatic sobbing nose. Hwanwoong and Geonhak laugh; they both know the truth of that statement all too well.

“Well,” Keonhee speaks matter-of-factly, “I think you guys are adorable,”

“Thanks, Keon,” Youngjo laughs. Seoho’s head moves up and down with the vibration.

Suddenly, the moment is right. Everyone is paying attention to the couple. No one is paying attention to Dongju’s foot, slowly creeping closer to its target. He makes the connection, and the bowl of popcorn flies off Hwanwoongs lap, landing on Keonhee. Popcorn flies everywhere. Keonhee cries. Hwanwoong is reprimanding Dongju; he wanted to eat his snack. Geonhak holds his head in his hands, trying not to show Hwanwoong that he’s laughing uncontrollably. Dongju is cackling, not caring about Hwanwoong’s complaints or Keonhee’s sobs.

Seoho is hysterically laughing in Youngjo’s arms, and he takes the moment to pull his boyfriend closer to his body. Youngjo is laughing too, marvelling at the feeling of Seoho in his arms; he hasn’t fully gotten used to the idea that he can have this now. He quickly kisses the top of Seoho’s head, trying not to get head-butted by his snickering boyfriend.

He wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously though, I think this is the longest stand-alone One Shot I have ever written. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


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